


Wingman of the Year: Titus the Dog

by CheshireCaine



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alfred had a bigger part than I planned, Alternate Universe, Casanova Bruce, Flirting, International Fanworks Day, International Fanworks Day 2017, Kon is like briefly mentioned, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Tumblr Prompt, discredit to Kon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9795692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCaine/pseuds/CheshireCaine
Summary: “hey new neighbor it appears that your dog likes me a thousand times better than she likes your partner and they’re really jealous and i’m sorry but not really because hellloooooo there” AUBruce smiled innocently while Tim froze in place, horrified at his situation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Forced myself to try to publish this before midnight on the 17th. I started this in 2015. I'm late and will edit/hate this in the morning. I would have more patience except my wifi is having serious issues. I am also tired enough that I scrolled past this and thought I said my wife was having the serious problems. I don't have a wife. I need sleep.
> 
> EDIT: It's 13:24, I don't see any atrocities in my half-second skim of the story and I've renamed it from 'To be named in the morning'. Thanks to the inspiration that kept me coming up with more words as I was writing this—I don't know where you came from or went, Cotton Eye Joe, but thanks—because this is another fic that's longer than all of the ones I've written before it.

"Titus!" Tim screamed after the Great Dane as it swerved its way out of the house.  
  
"What did you do, Kon?" Tim barged past his soon-to-be-deceased ex-boyfriend in a sprint out of the back door, hoping to flank the wayward hound before he escaped into the park. He scrambled over the fence but lost precious time unhooking his jumper after it was snagged by a post. He swerved around a corner and was struck with the sight of the dog being petted by a stranger.  
  
A really hot stranger.  
  
The man was crouched next to Titus and accepting his overzealous licks without complaint. The man unfolded himself and stood up, like it was natural for someone in a tailored and perfectly pressed three-piece suit to let themselves be slobbered on and nuzzled by a dog without Tim's level of social regard. Standing up, he struck an even more impressive figure.  
  
"I'm sorry, I saw him in the street and recognised him. I couldn't resist myself."  
  
"That's– that's no problem, Mr. Wayne."  
  
And indeed it was Bruce Wayne himself. Dressed immaculately with baby-blue eyes and a chiselled jawline so sharp that Tim would swear he could sharpen knives with it. Really. Really hot knives. Or something.  
  
Tim needed to not say any of that and to stop gazing into his beautiful, worthy-of-several-pages-of-description-in-a-harlequin-novel, eyes. Maybe he would just look at how his lips moved when they were shaping words. Talk about Cupid's bow. Every sound a piece of poetry, as smooth as Lord Byron murmuring about cloudless climes and raven tresses. Coincidentally, Bruce did have raven hair, and the sky was clear and the sun was shining as if only to highlight his Adonis-perfection.  
  
Ugh, Tim was content to stand there and just observe him and let himself be caressed by the sounds of his sweet, sweet voice.  
  
Wait, voice? What was he saying?  
  
"Tim. Tim, are you listening?"  
  
Tim clapped a hand to his forehead. "Sorry, just, I think the sun's getting to me a little." Thank God, his red cheeks and sweaty brow were actually coming in useful. And now he had an excuse for them.  
  
Bruce stepped towards Tim and shaded him from the sun bearing down on them. He gently pulled Tim's hand away from his temple and replaced it with his own. "Your forehead's feeling a little warm there, Tim. You should probably stay inside and rest. And drink some fluids too—are we near your home?"  
  
"Huh. No, it's no bother. It's probably just from me running after Titus."  
  
"Nonsense. It's important we keep you cool just to be on the safe side. You should have some water and go for a lie down."  
  
Tim was hyperaware of Bruce standing over him, his hand still clasped in his and Bruce still pressing against his forehead.  
  
Tim's paralysis had not gone unnoticed by Bruce. "Tim. We should really get you indoors." He slipped his hand down Tim's and held his wrist.  
  
Tim barely held in a 'meep'.  
  
"Your pulse is still really fast and you're completely flushed." Bruce leaned closer. "Are you sure I can't just take you home?"  
  
"Oh, oh no, it's fine. I wouldn't want to waste any more of your time."  
  
"I can assure you Alfred won't mind." He removed his hand from Tim's forehead and used it to point over his shoulder. "In fact, he'd probably be a lot more put out if I left you by yourself in this condition. Let me walk you home."  
  
Tim mourned the loss of a point of contact, but scrambled together a response."It's– It's all right, Mr. Wayne."  
  
"Call me 'Bruce'. Please. We've known each other long enough and you're babysitting my son's dog—you're practically family at this point."  
  
"Fine. Fine. _Bruce_." It took an exorbitant amount of effort to push out the man's name.  
  
"And I think that if we're this close." He smiled at Tim knowingly, using the hand holding Tim's wrist to point at them both. "Then it's fair for me to drop you off and see you home safely."  
  
"I–"  
  
Bruce raised an eyebrow, prepared to rebut any argument Tim could come up with by referring back to the issue of Tim's safety.  
  
Tim breathed a sigh. "I just, I can't go back because–"  
  
"Because?"  
  
"Because my boyfr– my ex-boyfriend's there, and I don't really want to see him right now."  
  
"Then come to mine."  
  
A beat, then: "Excuse me?"  
  
"Come to Wayne Manor." He took a step back with one foot and stretched a hand towards the definitely-too-expensive-for-this-neighbourhood and saying-its-name-may-get-it-stolen car conspicuously parked a few metres away. "We'll see you all right there. You can avoid your ex for a few hours, and if you're worried about Titus, you can keep an eye on him at home. Damian lets him use the manor as his playground anyway—it wouldn't be any different to a normal day for him."  
  
Tim looked back in the direction of home, chewing on the inside of his mouth.  
  
"And–"  
  
He looked back at Bruce. There was more?  
  
"–Dick mentioned you had a proposal for me about the Neon Knights foundation. Ideas on how to expand it to reach more at-risk teens _before_ we make it global."  
  
Tim raised his eyebrows, then came to himself, quirking his head and smiling with returned confidence. "How could I say no?"  
  
Bruce beamed at him, his eyes sparkling like dapples of sunlight off the surface of a– Nope. Don't go there, Tim.  
  
"After you," said Bruce, flourishing his hand.  
  
God, he's so charming. Then . . . I didn't think that, thought Tim. Who definitely did.  
  
Gesturing at Alfred to stay inside the car, Bruce got ahead of Tim to open the door. "We can have an early dinner too. If Alfred doesn't mind."  
  
Alfred raised the cap of his hat in salute to Tim as he climbed inside. "Not at all, Master Bruce." He raised his nose. "It's my pleasure—anything's better than you skipping meals. Or Master Tim skipping meals. Or Master Tim surviving on coffee, microwave dinners and his unnecessary ability to function on three hours of sleep for three days."  
  
Bruce grinned at Alfred's reflection in the rear-view mirror. "That's probably the coffee, Alfred."  
  
"Yes, well, being able to survive so many cups of that wretched communal coffee is probably a superpower unto itself. In _my_ opinion."  
  
Tim squirmed in his seat.  
  
Alfred regarded him, as Bruce moved around the car to let the ever-energetic Titus in on Tim's other side.  
  
"Even so, at least Master Tim shows some level of appreciation for good food."  
  
Tim smiled, reassured. "That's because your food is the best food, Alfred."  
  
"And don't I know it, Master Tim."  
  
Bruce came back around, slipping into the seat on Tim's left. "So that's settled then. It's a date."  
  
Tim spluttered, cheeks enflamed again.  
  
Alfred raised the partition between the driver and passenger seats. He smiled as he peeled the car out of the parking space, allowing himself a quiet chuckle as they cruised down the road, Tim still trying to make sense of what Bruce had just said.  
  
Bruce smiled innocently while Tim froze in place, horrified at his situation.  
  
Bruce blinked owlishly at Tim.  
  
Tim muttered under his breath, appalled at his own blindness. "Stupid good-looking billionaires with their charm. Should've known."  
  
"I'm sorry, what was that, Tim?"  
  
"Nothing." Tim tried to reassemble his composure, folding his hands in his lap. "I said that can't be."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Why not? Because I prefer being wined and dined overlooking nature."  
  
"That can be arranged." Bruce picked up Tim's hand and brushed his mouth over the knuckles, being sure to snag his lips over Tim's skin as he made direct eye contact.  
  
Tim stared.  
  
Bruce dropped Tim's hand. "We can stay in the study. It overlooks the patio." He reached behind Tim . . . to scratch at Titus's neck, then leaned back in his seat to settle in for the ride.  
  
Tim crossed his arms and mimicked Bruce, staring straight ahead. He waited for a few streets and let Bruce feel safe before speaking out of the corner of his mouth. "Only if you can deliver as well as the rumours say."


End file.
